A Deep Depression
by Loreal
Summary: While investigating a vary strange murder case without his partner, Danny must determine what happened to the victim and why. This will ultimately be a test of his strength. Can he figure this one out? Thanks for the reviews so far, keep 'em coming!
1. Default Chapter

A DEEP DEPRESSION  
BY: LML  
  
  
DISCLAIMERS:  
I don't own 'em, I'm only borrowing all involved for a bit of fanfiction... Hope it's good. I make   
no claims to WITCHBLADE, its characters, themes, or ideas. Trust me I'm not being paid for   
this either, because if I were I wouldn't be trying to find a summer job right about now... One which I might add pays a little more than ten bucks at the end of the day... Such is the life of a college student I guess.  
  
  
Note:  
This story is set sometime in the second season. I'm still working the kinks out of it, but it should   
turn out nicely. Also, note that this is primarily a Danny story. You read all these Jake stories,   
then there are the Ian and Sara pairings, the Ian stories, the Jake and Sara ones, and then there   
are just the Sara ones. This one is really about Danny and how he deals with a case without his   
partner. He doesn't get enough recognition in a lot of the fiction I've read, so I figure it's time I   
threw some out there and see if it takes off. Hopefully you guys will enjoy this one! Hey if you like it let me know! If you don't like it just tell me what I could change about the story perhaps to make it a bit better. I *can* take criticism!  
  
My thanks to those of you whom have read and reviewed so far! Keep 'em coming pretty plz!  
  
A DEEP DEPRESSION  
BY: LML  
  
  
Danny entered the office and sat down. Here he was at 7:30 in the morning, sitting alone in his   
office. He really didn't feel all that caffinated enough for the work thing this morning, but he   
knew that he was going to have to make himself get through it. It had been an unusually quiet   
week, and he was hoping it would stay as such. But something felt wrong to him. Murphy's law basically dictated that whenever something was going right, that usually meant there was something wrong just waiting to happen, and Danny had a sinking feeling that this particular something would have to do with work. He wondered why his instincts were on such a high alert, but was willing to let it go for now. After all, he guessed it could be any number of things. Maybe it was the fact that Mija's birthday was coming up soon, and he was hoping that the surprise party he and his family had planned for her would go off without any unexpected instances. Or perhaps it was because Sara wasn't there to hit him with her usual onslaught of sarcastic   
remarks and their constant teasing. He missed the bantering between the two of them more than   
he would admit. He prayed she would return from her vacation soon.  
  
It had only been two days, but he found himself wishing she would come back through those   
doors and sit across from him, with that ever present look of seriousness about her as was her   
custom. Sara had decided, after several attempts from both Danny and Joe Siri, to take some of   
her accumulated vacation time. Daniel Germain's death had hit her pretty hard, and they hadn't   
been able to track down Ian Nottingham whom Sara had believed to have been the one   
responsible. But this hadn't been the first thing which had been quite out of the ordinary. Lately it   
seemed that there were just too many unusual things happening, and too many things which had   
yet to be explained completely. Ever since the case involving Danny's live burial, Sara had   
seemed just a little off kilter. Believing there was something seriously wrong with Sara, Danny   
had at first threatened to remain her partner no longer. But Sara had begged him to take a leap   
of faith. He had called it blind faith with eyes wide open, and had accepted her request but only   
for the time being. It bothered him though, Sara's increasing inability to confide in him or talk to   
him about something which was obviously becoming a major issue with her. He knew something   
wasn't quite right with Sara, and if she needed some vacation time to straighten it out, then he   
would be happy to send her packing.  
  
Sara had taken Joe Siri's retirement plans all right, but he knew that it bothered her more than   
she cared to admit. It was common knowledge that after Sara's father James Pezzini had been   
murdered, Joe Siri had become like a second father to her. Sara admired, loved, and respected   
Joe completely and nothing in the world could ever change that. But Danny had seen how close   
the two of them had been, and when Joe had officially announced his retirement, it had nearly   
crushed Sara. Although she had insisted she was all right and fine with everything, Danny was   
still concerned. Even though he and Sara had agreed to still remain partners, he was still worried   
about her but didn't know just why. There were just way too many unknown factors which fit,   
or rather didn't fit, into several aspects of their more recent cases. For example, during their   
investigation into the Black Dragons, how had the most brilliant of the special forces unit missed   
killing one or both partners as he fired on them? And, during their investigation of Carl Dalack,   
how had Sara known that Dalack had taken Mija to Danny's home?  
  
Now they had a new captain, Bruno Dante. For some reason, he seemed to ruffle Sara's   
feathers just the slightest on certain ocasions, although it was nothing Danny could put a finger   
on to pinpoint. He wanted his old partner and friend back, and was willing to do anything to   
achieve that goal.  
  
As he sat in thought, he recalled the last several weeks. He realized that things just hadn't been   
right for some time now. He began to recall cases from the last couple of months, and realized   
the trouble had started just after his near brush with the afterlife. Sara refused to tell him how   
she had known exactly where he was buried in the cemetery, and furthermore refused to tell him   
who had attacked him or their reasons for doing so in the first place. All Sara would tell him was   
that where the people involved were concerned, the problem had been dealt with. Nothing   
made sense to him. Sara was an excellent detective, and Danny was normally the first person to   
make that fact known. But Danny knew how much the cases had effected his partner recently,   
and the one involving his niece Mija was no exception.  
  
Danny knew that Sara and Mija were close, and at times Sara was able to get through to Mija   
more so than Danny himself was able to. And he realized that she had really grown quite   
attached to Mija in the days following the girl's near brush with death. But Danny knew that   
there was much more to it than just Sara's attachment to his niece and the fact that there were   
still a few unanswered questions that he had for her. He couldn't figure out why she was getting   
those constant headaches, especially after she caught a glimpse of the bracelet he now saw as a   
constant presence on her right wrist. Something was really bothering Sara, and he hoped that   
her time off from work would help her to deal with whatever it was.  
  
Dannny sighed softly, and leant back in his chair. "Well," he thought, "I'd better get to these   
reports I have left. They're not going to get themselves done, although that would be a plus." He   
reached for a pen and the first report at the top of the thin stack neatly piled on his desk. He   
began writing the first line of the report, just as his phone rang. He settled the pen on the desk   
and retrieved the receiver. "Det. Woo, Homicide."  
  
"I'd like to report a dead body..." Danny had to strain to hear the soft voice. From the sound of   
the caller's voice, Danny surmised that she was female, somewhere in her twenties although he   
couldn't be absolutely certain of that, and she sounded frightened. "There's a dead body and   
you need to come investigate..."  
  
"Miss, where are you calling from? What's your name?" The line went dead.  
  
After listening to the dial tone for a couple of seconds he set the receiver back on its hook. For   
what seemed like several agonizing minutes, Danny stared at the phone, almost willing it to ring   
again. And, as if on cue, the device did just that. He lifted the phone to his ear and was about to   
open his mouth to speak when he heard the faint voice once more.  
  
"The address is 1432 Woodlawn Ave."  
  
No sooner were the words spoken than the line once again went dead in Danny's ear. He   
replaced the receiver for the second time and sat staring. He was a homicide Detective, and a   
body had been reported at an address. He stared at the phone for a moment longer, hoping it   
would ring once more. But the phone remained silent, as Danny's pen and report lay on the   
desk untouched. He rose from his chair, grabbing his jacket and throwing it on hastily.  
  
Exiting the office, he glanced around for McCartey, finally spotting the rookie standing by the   
coffee maker just inside the brake room. He walked over and put a hand on Jake's shoulder.  
  
"C'mon. We've got a homicide call."  
  
"Where?"  
  
The question went unanswered as Danny, still holding fast to Jake's shoulder, began moving   
through the precinct. Jake staggered at first trying to keep up with the tall Asian man, all the   
while trying not to spill some of the hot cup of coffee he'd just acquired.  
  
"All right, Danny, I'm coming."  
  
A few minutes later found the two of them in a patrol car. Jake sat in the passengers' side,   
holding on to his coffee as Danny drove wildly through the streets. Although he couldn't figure   
Danny's actions out, he didn't question them. He glanced once or twice at Danny, but the man   
said nothing.  
  
Danny was on high alert. He knew something hadn't been right about that phone call, but   
couldn't put his finger on it. Something was off. Why hadn't the caller given a name? Perhaps,   
Danny concluded, she was frightened and didn't want to give her name to the police. But he   
vowed to get to the bottom of this no matter what it took.  
  
"Hey, do you think it's possible for you to take those corners a liittle less sharply there, Danny?   
I'm not vary fond of having third-degree burns on my body from this coffee here..." Jake stared   
directly at Danny who seemed almost driven.  
  
"Awe quit your complaining, Rookie, and don't worry about it. You're not going to end up with   
third-degree burns from that office sludge. They don't make it hot enough for that..." Danny   
chided. "Besides, you've got the rest of your life to get another cup. Who ever this DB is we're   
rolling on isn't going to be that lucky."  
  
Danny glanced ahead of him, staring straight at the houses and the numbers. Finally he saw the   
1400 block of Woodlawn Ave. come into view. He sped up a little, getting a glare from Jake.   
Danny ignored the rookie and continued on. He pulled up in front of 1432 Woodlawn Ave. and   
cut the engine. Climbing out of the car, Danny hesitated only for a fraction of a second before   
making his way toward the front stepps.  
  
Jake, having by now given up trying to drink the already cold coffee, dumped the contents into   
the street and crushed the plastic cup in his hands. He hurried to catch up to Danny who had   
already gotten to the door. As Jake approached, he could see that Danny had his hand on his   
gun and the other poised to knock on the hard wood of the door.  
  
Danny stood still. His head was clear, and his job fully in mind. He opened the screen with one   
arm, holding it open with his elbow. As Jake approached, Danny gestured for Jake to grab the   
screen door. When Danny no longer felt the weight of the screen door's presence against his   
arm, he turned to the side. Now he stood facing the screen door which sat perpindicular to that   
of the inner door, with his fist poised to knock. No sooner had his fist struck the door once,   
than it swung open, revealing to the two men that it had been left ajar.  
  
"Jake, cover me. Let's go in, but be careful. Something doesn't feel right." Danny took a hesitant   
step into the house. He stepped further in, gun drawn and Jake at his heels.  
  
The two found themselves to be in what seemed to be a rather large entryway, with a staircase   
directly in front of them, and an open area to their right. The two partners moved slowly to the   
right, keping their eyes and ears peeled for any sight or sound seeming to be out of place.  
  
"Danny, are you sure about this?" Jake quipped. "No offense here or anything but everything   
seems all right so far. Are you absolutely sure..." Jake didn't finish the sentence. He hated   
questioning Danny, or even Sara for that matter. But he didn't have the experience that either of   
the two senior officers had, and he didn't recognize all of his hunches well enough to know   
which ones were pure instinct and which ones were just too far out there in never never land to   
believe.  
  
Danny gave Jake a curious glance. He liked the kid, and knew that Jake was only questioning   
because of his inexperience as a Homicide Detective. Finally he said after diverting his gaze   
from Jake once more, "I'm telling you something just isn't right. I can feel it."  
  
With that he moved further into the open area, revealing it to be a living room. Nothing seemed   
out of place in the room at all. The couch which sat along the far wall had an afghan folded   
neatly and placed atop its high back. The two chairs which were placed at opposite ends of the   
couch so they were facing one another, too had afghans folded neatly and slung carefully over   
their backs.  
  
Danny moved further into the room. He spotted a doorway leading to what was probably a   
kitchen area, and entered. This room much like the one before, was immaculately neat and   
sparce, with everything in its proper place. Nothing seemed to be out of place here, and yet   
something still felt terribly wrong. There was a gloom about the rooms, one which seemed to   
creep into Danny's sin and wouldn't leave him be no matter how hard he tried to shake it.  
  
"Jake, let's check the upper floor of the house. It's not too large a building, and the upper floor   
has to yield something of value."  
  
Jake looked at Danny quizzically. He wanted to ask, but didn't know how to do so without   
insulting Danny's intelligence. Finally, however, Jake came forth with what he wanted to say.   
"Danny, no disrespect here or anything man, but are you sure this is the place? I mean maybe   
the caller got the addres messed up. It happens yknow. People get freaked and they make   
mistakes."  
  
"The caller had the correct address, McCartey, I'm sure of it. She was scared, but if she'd been   
freaked then she never would've called back a second time. C'mon, let's go check out that   
second story."  
  
Jake, having accepted Danny's logic and reasoning, followed the senior officer up the flight of   
stairs. All along the wall leading up the stairwell, hung several photographs. Each was hung up   
above the one before it, in stairstep fashion all along the wall leading up to the second level of   
the home. At the top of the stairwell was a hallway. It ran the length of the living room below it,   
with four doors branching off the main passage. The floor was hard wood, and made a light   
creaking sound as the two men walked down to the first door.  
  
This door branched off to the left, and stood ajar. Danny held his breath for a beat, stood to the   
side, and pushed the door inward with the toe of his booted foot. He braced himself for   
whatever would come at them upon the movement of the door, but nothing came. He found   
himself staring into a medium-sized bedroom, furnished like the rest of the house and with   
nothing out of place. He entered the room and began searching. Finally he came to the closet,   
and prepared to open the door. As before he stood to the side, gun drawn. He moved the   
closed sliding door aside to reveal nothing of interest.  
  
"Nothing in this one. Let's check the others. If we find nothing we'll go. But I'm telling you   
there's something here. I don't know how I know this, just that I do."  
  
They exited the room and found themselves back in the hall once more. The next door was on   
their right hand side, and as soon as Danny looked around the doorframe he realized that this   
room would yield nothing of value either, just as the first had yielded nothing. The second door   
led to a bathroom, and the third door, this time on the left once again led to a linen closet. This   
too, prooved nothing.  
  
Finally, they came to the end of the hallway and the fourth and final door. As before, Danny   
took his position and opened the door. He spotted a flight of steep attic stairs ahead, and almost   
shut the door and turned when he saw it. There on the stairwell were several drops of red,   
staining each step as far up as Danny could see.  
  
"Jake, go downstairs and call this in. We've got something. There's blood on this staircase, and   
it's fresh. Get the M.E. here. I have a bad feeling we're about to find a body up there."  
  
Jake nodded solemnly and turned to leave. Danny regarded him for a moment and then turned   
back to the stairwell. Seeing that the bloodstains only lay on one side of the steps, Danny   
decided to go up and investigate. He began ascending to the third story of the house, feeling   
vary tense about what he expected to find once at the top. As he finished climbing the final few   
steps, he could see why the blood had been only to one side. He glanced to the left and knew   
instantly why. She was lying on the floor, curled in a small heap. In the dimly lighted room he   
could clearly see the blood covering her wrists and arms.  
  
"Oh my god." Danny whispered softly. "Who did this and why!"  
  
As he stood there, taking everything in, the clinical and detached part of him didn't take over   
right away. The human part of him, the one which cried inside for the pain that this young,   
beautiful woman had more than likely suffered before death, surged to the forefront of his   
consciousness. This had been the way he had reacted when he'd been investigating Karl Dalack   
for the deaths of the eight teenage girls. He could feel himself slipping back into that old, familiar   
angry part of himself that he had fought so hard to control. He fought everyday to control this   
part of him, and had almost failed when Mija had nearly been Dalack's final victim.  
  
He stood stock still and glanced at the young woman more closely, never touching or disturbing   
the crime sceen in any way. He was beginning to gain controll of himself now, and was forcing   
the sadness and pain he felt for this poor girl back behind its barriers within his mind. He knew   
all too well that in order to perform the duties of his job affectively, he would need to remain   
objective and detached from his feelings about how or why this girl had died.  
  
She lay curled as though she'd fallen or passed out. The look of the wounds on her arms and   
wrists suggested self-infliction. But he was a homicide detective, and would need to rule out any   
and all other possibilities before making his final conclusion. He could see the phone which lay   
only inches from her right arm. He didn't need to pick it up to know that this most certainly had   
bloody handprints on it. He realized somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind that her   
finger prints would be the only ones found on the electronic device.  
  
As he stood gaping at the sceen before him, he heard the telltale sounds of the police and saw   
the flashing lights through the windows. He was about to turn and head down to meet the   
newcomers, but thought better of it. He didn't want to leave this woman alone. Although he   
knew she was dead, her physical self wouldn't know he was there. But her mental self, the part   
of her that wasn't made up simply of flesh, blood, and bone would know of his presence. He   
knew her soul had been crying for someone to listen, and when he'd answered her call she had   
already decided her own destiny.  
  
Five minutes later, the narrow hallway was overflowing with people and equipment. Within the   
next ten minutes, Vicky Po and her team had arrived and had already carted the young woman   
off to the Morg for an autopsy. Now, Danny stood investigating the sceen as he would any   
other murder or suicide sceen. He noted the spots on the perfectly immaculate floor where her   
blood had stained the wood. He could see the chalk outline of her body, in its twisted   
contortioned state. But what he noticed most was the absence of any weapon with which this   
act had been committed. He noted that there was no razer or anything with a blade on it   
capable of performing the work done to the victim's body.  
  
"Danny, you ready to go? Po's already come and gone, and we need to get going on..."  
  
Danny was aware of Jake's voice in his ear but didn't listen to his words. Instead he turned to   
face the rookie and plastered a serious look of clinical detachment on his features. "Jake, I'm   
going to handle this one alone. I don't need backup on this case. It looks pretty simple to me.   
But what I want you to do, is go back to the Precinct and start the reports on the files I have   
sitting on my desk. All the information is there, and all you'll need to do is fill out the reports.   
You worked on a few of the cases with Sara and me, so you shouldn't have any trouble with   
them."  
  
Jake looked at him thoughtfully. He knew that it was within Danny's right to have him go about   
the task newly assigned to him, but he questioned Danny's motives for a single unyielding   
second. He wondered if perhaps, Danny wasn't handling this case objectively or if he had   
perhaps known the victim prior to death. Jake dismissed this thought though as being out of the   
question. Danny hadn't sparked a look of recognition when they'd drawn near the property, nor   
had he mentioned anything of the victim's name. However, Jake couldn't help but wonder at the   
endless reasons Danny Woo would have for dismissing him from this particular case. Finally, he   
settled on doing as he had been requested and turned to leave.  
  
"All right, but you know where to find me if you need someone to watch your back..." Jake   
gave Danny one last look and then departed the sceen.  
  
Not long after that, the rest of the group left the sceen, leaving Danny truly alone in this house.   
All the pertinent evidence had been bagged and tagged and would be awaiting his arrival back   
at the Precinct. Vicky would have the autopsy notes ready and waiting for him just as soon as   
she could, and Jake was handling the reports on his desk. Although he knew that everything had   
been gone over with a fine-toothed comb, something still seemed amiss. It was clearly spelled   
out for him, the girl had obviously committed suicide. But Danny felt that there was more to this   
than what met the eye. As he watched the last of the flashing lights depart down the street, he   
turned and headed down to the first floor of the house. He began a thorough search, looking in   
cabinets, cupboards, trunks, table drawers, and any other available nook and cranny the small   
home had to offer. He didn't know just what he was looking for, but was sure he would know   
what it was when he found it. He hadn't made an official decision on this case yet and wanted a   
little more time to investigate all possible avenues before closing it. He wanted to know the truth,   
no matter how unpleasant it was.  
  
After about a half-hour of searching through the downstairs, Danny stopped for a moment. He   
began to wonder if he would find what it was that he was searching for. He stopped moving and   
just stood staring at his surroundings. Finally his gaze moved to the staircase. He headed for the   
stairs and began to ascend them, not entirely sure what it was he would look for once at the top.   
Once there, however, he felt drawn to the bedroom and entered. It all apeared to be normal,   
but he couldn't shake his hunch that something was here.  
  
He began to search the room with a clinical eye, trying to find something which would help him.   
He began looking on the dreser's clean top. He found there a jewelry box, a bottle of perfume,   
deodorant, and a makeup case. He started with the jewelry box. Lifting the lid he spied several   
beautiful pieces of jewelry which had been placed carefully inside. He left the jewelry   
untouched, and was about to disregard the box when he noticed a small compartment tucked   
away at the bottom. He opened the tiny drawer and found a small photograph lying face up in   
the otherwise empty drawer.  
  
Careful not to leave any of his own prints on the picture, Danny lifted it out and held it by the   
edges. He glanced at the picture in his hand in wonderment. He glanced at the photograph, one   
which was obviously of the young woman whom had been taken the the morg only an hour   
earlier. But there was another person in this picture, a young man. Form the look of the man's   
face, Danny guessed his age range to be that of a twenty-one to twenty-five-year old.   
Something told him not to disregard this person, as he may just be the key to helping solve the   
case. Danny studied the photograph for a few moments longer, and then removed an evidence   
bag from his jacket pocket. He carefully placed the picture inside the bag, closed it, and labeled   
it with the proper information.  
  
Twenty minutes later, Danny entered the morg and headed in the direction of Vicky Po's office.   
Seeing that she had her back turned to the door, Danny slipped into the room almost as though   
on a current of barely moving air. He could hear her humming softly to herself and held off for a   
moment. She was, by far, one of the more interesting characters he had ever worked with while   
on the force, but he liked interesting and unusual. Finally he chose his method of attack. He   
slipped up behind her, and stretched out a hand, settling it only a scant couple of inches above   
ehr shoulder. Waiting until she had placed whatever instrument she was using on the table in   
front of her, he struck.  
  
"Po-Po." His hand came down and caught her shoulder quickly. "Okay, whatcha got for me   
today?"  
  
Vicky spun around, right into Danny's body. He'd expected her action and caught her easily. He   
smiled at her feigned annoyance. "Woo, I really think you should see someone about that little   
problem of yours."  
  
Smiling, Danny released Vicky and stepped back. "Say what? I have no idea what you're   
talking about."  
  
"You know, your little habbit of sneaking up on people. Why don't you ever try that on Pez?   
She might actually get a kick out of that."  
  
"Already did that once. Wound up going home that night with a sore jaw and a vary black eye.   
My wife didn't exactly find it too amusing when I told her about it, but when Sara happened to   
mention it to her one day she found it quite hillarious. She still hasn't let me forget it. And   
besides, you're much more fun to pull that on."  
  
Vicky smiled. Despite his little prank, she really enjoyed Danny's company. He was the type of   
guy she loved having as a friend, and if not for the fact that they were such friends and that he   
was married, she'd prbably have fallen for him long ago. But they were pretty close: Danny,   
Pez, and herself. And for that she was more than thannkful. She loved having them all as friends   
and wouldn't give that up for anything in the world. She stepped over to her desk and reached   
onto it, grasping a thin folder.  
  
"Here's the workup on your Jane Doe. Her fingerprints say she's Rebekah Evans, twenty-five   
years of age, and the cause of death was due to exanguination or an enormant amount of blood   
loss. The wounds on her wrists and arms suggested to me that she was a suicide. But, I took a   
second look. Something just didn't sem right. They were done too deeply and too quickly for   
her to have been able to cut both wrists properly."  
  
"So you're saying she didn't commit suicide. She was murdered?" Danny held his emotions in   
check, thogh all he wanted to do was to find out who was responsible for the girl's death and   
make them pay.  
  
Vicky nodded. "The depth of the cuts to her wrists were so deep, that there was no way they   
could've been done with a razar. They had to have been made with something much sharper,   
and the blade would be about the same width as a razar's though. But I also need to tell you that   
I found no evidence of her having ever been a cutter."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"About as sure as I can be with this case. See, with cutters they generally cut different spots on   
their bodies. Arms, legs, other places where the marks could be concealed with clothing or   
other items. This girl wasn't a cutter. I also checked her medical history and found no signs of   
depression, nothing to indicate that she was even remotely close to the point of committing   
suicide. All the evidence here points to a killer."  
  
Danny stood in thought. He knew that the possibility had been there from the beginning, but he   
didn't know how to approach it without having to consider the fact that this girl could've been a   
suicide. All throughout his life he'd never been able to contemplate what could ever posess   
people to either consider or act on the thought of suicide. It made him hurt inside to think of   
how many cases of suicide he'd seen during his time so far in Homicide. But what saddened him   
even further was the reasoning behind each of them. Some did it to escape depression, just as   
some did it simply to inflict pain on someone who had inflicted pain upon them previously. And   
then there were just some people who had honestly given up on life and decided to end it all.  
  
"Thanks, Vicky. Anything more?"  
  
Vicky looked at Danny for a minute before responding. "Well there is something, but maybe it   
doesn't mean anything here, but I checked for skin samples from beneath her fingernails and   
there weren't any."  
  
"You mean there wasn't enough for you to get a proper sample right?" Danny quipped in his   
soft, gentle tone. He hoped that he had heard incorrectly but feared that he hadn't.  
  
"I mean there were none to bee found at all. She didn't fight back when her killer or killers   
attacked. I can't even say whether the killer was male or female because of the depth and   
severity of her wounds. I can tell you though, that you're looking for a left-handed person."  
  
Danny thanked Vicky and then turned to leave. Before he exited though he had a thought. "Did   
you do a tox screen on the victim?"  
  
"Yeah. Nothing showed up. No drugs or alcohol. I even took a look at some of the evidence   
from the sceen. The phone had a substancial amount of blood on it, most of which was from the   
victim. But I did find a vary small amount of blood which seems to be the victim's but it doesn't   
match her type. Your victim's blood type was A-B Negative. It's an extremely rare type of   
bloodtoo. Something like one out of every three-hundred-thousand families has this type."  
  
Danny nodded and left. He headed straight for the Precinct, bound and determined now more   
than ever, to find out just what happened to Rebekah Evans. As he entered his office, he   
spotted Jake McCartey seated at Sara's desk, working furiously on a report. The rookie   
looked up as Danny entered and flashed a quick grin.  
  
"Hey, Danny, I'm almost done with the Henderson case and I finished the Jefferson file twenty   
minutes ago. You want any help on that homicide call from earlier?"  
  
Danny shook his head solemnly. "No thanks, Jake, I got it covered. But thanks for the offer. I   
know where to find you if I need backup." He reached out and took the rest of the reports from   
Jake. "I don't need backup, but I need you to run down a picture for me. Find out who the guy   
is, and get back to me ASAP."  
  
Jake took the evidence bag Danny held out to him and regarded the Asian man thoughtfully.   
"No problem. Hey where will you..." Jake stopped talking, realizing that it was futile. He wasn't   
going to get a response from Danny, and thought it best not to press for one. He watched as   
Danny headed back out the dor, cellular in hand.  
  
Danny headed straight for the car and climbed in. He started the vehicle, and drove about a mile   
until he came to a spot where he pulled off to the side of the road. He sat there, staring at   
nothing, just holding his cellular phone in complete and total silence. He didn't know Rebekah   
Evans, but he mourned for the loss of her life just as though he'd known her for many years. He   
was a police officer, and as such wasn't allowed to let his emotions get the best of him especially   
when those emotions concerned a current case. But right now to hell with emotions and to hell   
with ethics. He didn't cry outwardly, but rather inwardly. Rebekah Evans was only a few years   
younger than his wife, and it disturbed him to think that someone so young and beautiful as   
Rebekah Evans could be murdered in such a horrible fashion. He didn't know who would make   
this woman's murder look like a suicide, but he wanted to find out and make them pay for their   
crime.  
  
Danny placed his cellphone back in his jacket pocket and leant back in his seat. He thought of   
Lee and the kids. Thoughts of his niece Mijaflooded his senses as well, but the thought of the   
twenty-four-year old Rebekah Evans lying in a drawer in the morg wasconstantly at the   
forefront. He made up his mind and started the engine. He began to drive until he no longer saw   
the city andall its skyscrapers, lights, noise, and people. When he finally stopped the car, he   
climbed out and surveyed his surroundings. All seemed quiet and normal, until the peaceful   
silence was shattered by the ringing of his cellphone. He grabbed it from his pocket and   
answered. "Detective Woo,"  
  
"Danny, it's Jake. I've got the information on that picture you wanted me to run. The guy's   
name is Warren James. Address is 615 Chandler Ave."  
  
"Thanks, Jake. I'll check it out." Danny had just begun to close the phone when he heard Jake   
say something. "What was that?"  
  
"I said your wife called. She wants you to call her back whenever you get a free moment. She   
said it wasn't anything major, but you should call her." Jake sounded tired and worn out. Danny   
could definitely understand why the rookie was as tired as he sounded, they both were.  
  
"Thanks, Jake, see you when I get back to the office." Danny closed his phone.He placed the   
phone back in his pocket and climbed back in to the car. He drove back to the city, and once   
there headed for Chandler Ave. After finding Warren James' house, he gave the building the   
once-over and stopped his car.  
  
Danny approached the door and knocked. He probably should've brought backup with him,   
but he didn't feel that he needed anyone at the present. If he did need someone, he knew he   
could easily get a hold of Jake who was anxious to help out anyhow. He waited patiiently for   
someone to answer his persistent knocking, and when the door was finally opened, Danny   
found himself staring straight into the face of the man in the photograph.  
  
"May I help you?"  
  
"Yes sir," Danny said. He wasted no time getting down to business. "My name is Det. Woo,   
and I'm with the 11thh Precinct's Homicide Division. I'm looking for a Warren James."  
  
"I'm Warrren James. What can I do for you, Det. Woo?"  
  
Danny quickly explained that he was there to speak to the man regarding Rebekah Evans, and   
explained further that he was investigating her death. He left out the part about it being a murder,   
figuring he would keep that as an ace in the hole just in case.  
  
"Well, I knew Rebekah vary well. We were best friends for several years." Warren James   
stepped back and opened the door wider. "Come on in, Det."  
  
Danny followed the man in and waited for him to close the door behind them both. Warren   
James ushered Danny into a living room and offered him a seat. Danny took one, waiting for the   
younger man to take his own before continuing his questioning.  
  
"You say that you were best friends with the victim. How long have you known Rebekah   
Evans, Mr. James?"  
  
"About nine years. We met when we were in high school. She was two years younger than me,   
but three years behind me in school. I was a Senior and she was a Freshman."  
  
Danny continued to question James for about ten minutes more before he finally said, "Does it   
seem likely to you that Rebekah would've been one to commit suicide?"  
  
Warren James' face turned ashen and his jaw dropped. "Suicide? No, not Rebekah. Not a   
chance. She was the most lively person I've ever known. She has... Had a zest for life that I've   
seen in vary few people. She was the type of person that saw the glass as being half full, not half   
empty."  
  
"When was the last time you'd seen Rebekah Evans, Mr. James?" Danny quipped. He   
wwatched the man's face to see if he could gage any reaciton. By all appearances the man   
seated only a few feet from him seemed distraught over his friend's apparent death, but Danny   
wondered if there wasn't something more to it.  
  
"I haven't seen or spoken to Rebekah in probably six months or so."  
  
"Why is that? If you two were the best of friends, why is it that you haven't seen or spoken to   
her in the last six or seven mnoths?"  
  
Warren looked at Danny and then down at the floor. "The last time we were together,   
something happened between us. Neither of us knew it would happen, but it happened just the   
same. We just haven't been able to speak to one another since then."  
  
"Can you tell me what happened?" Danny asked. He knew he was probing thin ice here, but he had to do it. "Why haven't the two of you spoken, and what happened to cause the two of   
you to suddenly stop speaking?"  
  
"The last night we were together, Rebekah and I had begun talking about past relationships the   
two of us had been in and what had happened causing these relationships to fall apart. I don't   
know how the topic came up, but eventually we began talking about ourselves and how we felt   
toward one another. She admitted to me that she did have feelings for me, feelings deeper than   
those of a friend. After that things got a little intense. We were both in to it pretty deep, and   
later on I drove her home. That was the last time I saw her. I mean don't get me wrong or anything, Det. I mean we spoke a couple of times   
afterwards, but the conversations were pretty superficial. She asked me how I felt and if we were still okay as friends. I told her that we were, but frankly she scared me. I never expected   
her to come out and tell me how much she really cared. I told her she scared me, and I think it   
really hurt her."  
  
Danny looked at the man in front of him. Finally he asked, "Do you think that perhaps it could've hurt her enough to make her want to commit suicide?"  
  
"No, Det. Woo, I don't believe that it would've caused her to commit suicide. Rebekah was completely, one-hundred-percent against suicide. She'd seen too much of that sort of thing related to her own family for her to ever have considered the possibility."  
  
"Are there any family members around here that I might speak with?"  
  
The man stared at the detective for a moment and then shook his head sadly. "Rebekah didn't have any family around here, at least nobody I knew of. I mean who could blame her for being around them, I mean after what they all did to her as a kid?" He stood from his chair and walked over to a nearby table. Lifting a small book from the table he opened it and flipped to a page. He handed it to Danny and reseated himself.  
  
"What's this?" Danny took the book and stared at the photograph that Warren had flipped to. He stared at it and then gazed at Warren with a questioning stare.  
  
"A picture of Rebekah and myself at the one and only family event she ever attended as long as I knew her and as long as she'd been here in New York. Things were pretty tense between her and her aunt, but I never figured the lady would up and off herself the next week... I think it really got to Rebekah though. She never spoke about it, but I just had a feeling that something was really eating at her."  
  
Looking down at the photograph and then back at the young man Danny said softly, "I'm really sorry about your friend. I really do need to know though, Mr. James, if you can think of anyone, anyone at all, whom I might also notify of her death?"  
  
"I'm really sorry, Det. Woo, but unfortunately I can't come up with anyone at all. Like I said the only relative I really knew of was Rebekah's aunt, and as I said before the woman committed suicide a week after that photograph was taken. After that things just became really distant between the two of us. It's partially my fault, I mean I could've made an effort to try and talk after..." He paused for a brief moment, looking at the floor in front of him. He appeared to study the ground with an intensity of someone whi was attempting to say something but not say it al at once. Finally he looked up once more and continued. "After what happened between Rebekah and myself, I acted like a childish jerk. I wish to God now that I could just make things right with her."  
  
Danny felt sorry for this young man. Here he was, hearing the news of the death of his best friend and he was blaming himself. It was a typical reaction, one of the five stages of grief. But Danny decided that he didn't want to prolong this man's suffering any longer. Standing, he handed the photo album back over to Warren James. He smiled a sad, sympathetic little smile as he started to make his way to the door.  
  
"I'm sorry for your loss. And if there's anything you can remember, or anything I can do, please don't hesitate to call me." Danny reached in to his pocket and pulled out a card, handing it to the young man as he turned to leave.  
  
As Danny climbed back in to his car he couldn't help but feel more and more of the pain of the young woman's loss in his heart. He wasn't sure exactly why this case was effecting him so deeply, but he was sure that he would do everything within his power to find out exactly why Rebekah Evans had been killed. Although Warren James hadn't believed Danny's suicide theory, Danny hadn't said anything to indicate that Rebekah hadn't died as a result of suicide. Until he knew everything, he wasn't going to take any chances with this case. James seemed like an unlikely suspect, but something seemed off. If Rebekah hadn't been murdered, then where was the weapon with which she'd killed herself? And if it turned out that Rebekah had been murdered, who had murdered her and what with? 


	2. Chapter 2.

Sorry this chapter's so short right now, but I need more feedback! Someone please let me know what you think!!! If I don't hear anything from anyone at all, I'll simply convert these two chapters into one and leave this story in the background to be finished at a later date...  
All comments to  
llavigna@nycap.rr.com  
Or just send a review my way!  
  
  
Danny pulled into his driveway, cut the engine, and got out of the vehicle. He headed for the front door, closing it softly upon his entrance. No sooner had he entered than he saw his wife sitting on the couch waiting for him to come home. It wasn't late, probably about 7:30, but te house was quiet. He figured that the kids were off playing somewhere, and wa thankful for the peaceful feeling of his home.  
  
"Hi honey," Lee said in her soft voice. She stood from the couch as her husband came forward to meet her. He wrapped his arms around her in a gentle but strong embrace. "Mike and Una are at my mother's..."  
  
"Hey... How was your day?" Danny said as he held onto his wife. He didn't want to end the embrace, but reluctantly stepped back and seated himself next to Lee who reclaimed her spot on the couch. For a few moments the two of them looked at one another, neither speaking nor moving for several long minutes. Finally Lee broke the silence.  
  
"Mija came home from school with a black eye today." Noting the concern on her husband's face Lee added, "She was being taunted by a bunch of girls about something, but when they started ganging up on her and the fight broke out she refused to fight back."  
  
"That's not like Mija," Danny said worriedly. He started to stand up, but Lee placed a hand on his shoulder stopping him in his tracks. Danny felt the warmth of her touch, which had its desired effect.  
  
"She froze up. I asked her why she didn't defend herself, and she said that she was afraid."  
  
"Is she in her room?" Lee nodded and released Danny's shoulder. He headed up the stairs and straight for Mija's room. Knocking lightly on the partially opened door, Danny stuck his head in before pushing the door open even further and stepping inside. He could see his niece, and instantly knew that she wasn't going to tell him to leave.  
  
"Hey, Uncle Danny..." Mija half turned around, revealing a vary black and swollen right eye. She reached for her makeup kit sitting on her dresser, but Danny moved across the room and took hold of her hand gently, halting her.  
  
"Mija, I know about the fight and the black eye. Wanna talk about it?" He sat on the end of her bed and looked at her fully.  
  
"It's nothing... I, I just..." Mija started and stopped. Finally she said, "I just froze up. I know you and Dad always told me that if someone starts it I should try to walk away but I couldn't. They ganged up on me and I just froze."  
  
Danny reached out and gently but firmly took hold of Mija's shoulder. He knew how terrified his niece had been following her abduction, and he wanted nothing more than to comfort her and keep her safe. But now he had to face the reality that there were girls out there who were the snobby, stuckup type who never concerned themselves with anyone's felings except their own. He tried to get Mija to turn and look at him, but she wouldn't move.  
  
"You didn't do anything wrong. You hear me? You, he said as he tried once again to make his niece look at him, "have nothing to be ashamed of. What happened to you should never happen to anyone. And tomorrow morning you and I will go in to your school and have a talk with the principal ergarding these girls."  
  
"I was suspended." Mija hung her head, not wanting her uncle to see just how miserable and hurt she really felt. "It's policy... They suspend you if you're in a fight, whether or not you do anything to defend yourself. I'm out of school for two weeks. I'm really sorry..."  
  
Danny stood up and walked around the side of the bed to stand in front of Mija. He placed a hand under her chin and gently tilted her head upward so she was looking at him. He could see the hurt and pain in her eyes, not to mention the humiliation that she felt. His heart broke for Mija, and what she had to deal with. Finally, after what seemed like several long moments of silence he spoke up.  
  
"You have nothing to be sorry about. You didn't start this fight, those girls did. And we'll deal with that. But for right now what I want you to do is don't try and dwell on what's happened recently. I know that it's a much esier thing to say than it is to do, but I want you to try, at least for my sake. Now I'm going to go downstairs and talk to your aunt for a little while, and I want you to get some rest."  
  
Danny knelt and put his arms around his niece. Mija didn't resist him, although inside she wanted to. She was still frightened of guys, and of course she had every right to be afraid. But this wasn't just some guy, this was her Uncle Danny. He'd nearly killed a man to protect her, and although she'd said that he should've killed the man responsible for her overwhelming fear of men, she realized that Danny had done the right thing by not shooping to Karl Daleck's level. Danny truly was her hero, someone she both loved and respected, now more than she ever had before.  
  
Rising to his feet, he released Mija from the hug. He turned to leave the room but glanced back at her as he did so. He knew that she was stong and with time would be able to come to terms with everything that had happened over the course of the past several weeks. He thought of this as he descended the stairs and entered the living room. Lee wasn't on the couch where she'd been when Danny had gone up to talk to Mija, so he decided to see if she'd gone in to the kitchen.  
  
He found her sitting at the table, sipping a glass of tea and nibbling on a blueberry muffin. He joined her at the table and gazed lovingly at her as he watched her consume her snack. The baby must be the one making her hungry, he thought as he grabbed a muffin for himself from the plate in the center of the table.  
  
As the two sat together, Lee enjoying her snack and waiting in wonderment to hear what her husband was thinking, and Danny semingly undecided as to what he should say, something passed between them. It wasn't an uncomfortable something, rather a vary real awareness that they were sharing. Lee placed her muffin on the napkin in front of her and reached out her hand to her husband.  
  
"I take it that today wasn't a good day at work." Lee stated in her gentle voice. She always seemed to know just what neded to be said, and never judged anyone or anything without just cause.  
  
"That's an understatement," Danny said sadly. "I'm working on a vary difficult case, one that's not horrific but still difficult to deal with nevertheless..."  
  
For the next two hours Danny sat at the kitchen table, holding his wife's hand and talking about how he felt concerning the case. Although he couldn't give her details about the case, he could tell her how it was making him feel. He couldnt seem to understand fully just why this was having such a profound impact on him but somehow Lee could.  
  
"You are a good, kind, loving man who takes everything in. I fell in love with you for those exact ualities that you possess, and that's why I still love you. But you need to try and think clearly about the way you're reacting to this particular case. You need to keep an open mind and heart, while trying to make sense of all of this insanity that is causing your inner termoil."  
  
"You know something," Danny said as he squeezed his wife's hand gently. "I'd almost be willing to bet that you're starting to sound like me whenever I'm talking to Sara or someone else..."  
  
Danny's words were cut short by the ringing of the phone. Lee looked at him and nodded with a soft, little smile on her face. He rose from his seat and reluctantly went to answer the call.  
  
*****************************************************************************  
  
Twenty minutes later, Danny found himself standing in the morg, staring at Vicky Po and the body of Rebekah Evans. He wasnt really too sure of what he was supposed to be here looking at, but there was no question in his mind that Vicky would reveal all whenever she was ready to begin. He looked at her for a moment, wondering just what made her keep working at this when she had been so sure that her theory of murder was correct. Finally, however, Danny's thoughts were interrupted by Vicky's voice and her words being directed at him.  
  
"I'm really sorry about this, but I just found something out about this young woman. It seems that she could possibly have committed suicide after all. But I can't be sure unless you find me a weapon to compare the cuts to."  
  
Danny stood frozen in shock. He'd prayed that Rebekah hadn't been a suicide, and as horrifying a thought as that was, it wasn't as terrible as his hope that Rebekah Evans' death had been the result of a murder. He knew how terrible that sounded, and was instantly ashamed for even thinking of the idea. He hated thinking something so horrible as that, but he found it difficult to accept that this young woman could have taken her own life. Everything concerning this case was really affecting him much more than he had even allowed himself to ponder, and as the realization hit him he knew what he would need to do.  
  
"I'm going to go back to her house and check it out again." Danny looked at Vicky for a moment and then turned to go.  
  
"But I thought you already searched that place with a fine-toothed comb. What on earth are you expecting to find there, Danny?" Vicky could see how tortured Danny was due o this case, and finally made a deciion. "All right," she said. "If you're going over there, then I'm going with you. It might do you some good to have an extra set of eyes looking around for... Whatever it is that you're going to be looking for..." Grabbing her jacket she added, "Besides, I'd like to search that place myself."  
  
*****************************************************************************  
  
Danny pulled up to the house and cut the engine. He started to get out and noticed that Vicky hadn't moved form the passenger's seat. He resettled himself in his seat and closed his door. Turning his head so that he now faced her, Danny gazed at the medical examiner. He wondered why she hadn't moved from her seat to go in with him.  
  
"Hey, Vick, you okay?"  
  
Vicky stared at Danny fr a brief second and nodded. "I'm... I'm okay, I just..." She stopped short. How could she say what she wanted to say without sounding like she was letting the job get too personal? But Danny had sensed something and placed a concerned hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Vicky, if you're worried about letting this case get to you, welcome to the club. It's gotten to metoo, more than I'd care to admit. It's dificult for me to comprehend one way or the other, why Rebekah Evans had to lose her life. I don't understand it, and chances are I probably never will. But if we work together, we can find out the real truth about what happened here today. You up for that, Po po?"  
  
Vicky shown a small, sad smile at Danny's pet nickname for her. He always could make someone laugh whenever he knew you needed to, and she knew that this was the reason she liked him as much as she did. Turning to hold his gaze Vicky said softly, "Let's put this case to rest once and for all."  
  
*****************************************************************************  
  
Nearly a half-hour later, the pair reached the attic. They had combed through the rest of the house and had found absolutely nothing to help either theory. Whether it had been murder or suicide still wasn't clear to either of them, but neither one was willing to give up their search for any clues just yet.  
  
"Hang on for a minute." It was Danny, kneeling on the floor in the attic where Rebekah's body had been discovered. He noticed that there as before, this room was immaculately kept, save for the blood from her wounds.  
  
Vicky stopped her inspection of a corner of he room several feet away and turned to where he was kneeling. "Find something?" Vicky asked, full of curiosity.  
  
"No, and that's just it. Your original theory has to be correct. Think about it for a minute. If Rebekah *had* used something to kill herself, wouldn't it be up here where we found her body? I mean you said it yourself... The wounds were prety deep."  
  
Vicky stood and came over to where Danny was. She knelt beside him and relaxed on the hard wood flooring, careful not to disturb the yellow crimesceen tape and the chalk outline of where the body had been. She looked at him for a moment or two, realizing just how intuitive Danny really was.  
  
"Yes, the wounds were pretty deep. Like I said before they were too deep for her to have held something in one hand while cutting the other and then repeating the process with the already sliced wrist. I mean if there were a broken window, a piece of razor-sharp glass, anything which might be immobile but accessable enough for the task then she could've slit both her own wrists. But the wounds were neatly done, almost as if done by a surgeon or someone with an incredibly steady hand." She reached across and took hold of one of his wrists. "When a person is trying to commit suicide by slitting their wrists, there's no possible way for the wrists to be slit as neatly and cleanly as Rebekah Evans' wrists were. She never could've done it on her own, just by holding something with one hand, cutting her other, and repeating the process on the uncut wrist. Rebekah would've had to have a *vary* high tollerance to pain, which even if she did, it's still unlikely. Although it's a possibility," Vicky said as she demonstrated her attempt at keeping her own hands steady while holding Danny's wrist between them, "it's a highly unlikely possibility."  
  
"All right, so what do we do now?" Danny asked. He didn't pull back from Vicky, who still had ahold on his wrist. In a strange way, he didn't want her to let go of him at the moment. He didn't want the only other person who was being as effected by this case as he was to leave him completely alone. What he was feeling wasn't a need for Vicky physically, though it was an emotional need. Lee would have difficulty understanding the particulars of the case, and even if Danny could tell his wife he wasn't all too sure she wanted to know them. She was supportive of him and his career, but if she didn't have to know something, then she didn't make an issue of gaining the knowledge.  
  
"I know I'm going to hate myself for even thinking this, but there's no one else I've even been able to notify of her death other than a friend. Apparently all her family is gone, and the guy I made the death notification to this afternoon said something about an aunt of Rebekah's committing suicide a few months back. I just don't understand this case, Vicky... I don't understand it and what's even more terrifying to me is the fact that she was murdered. I don't know why it happened, I don't know who did it, and all I want to do is find answers to all the questions. I want to make it all fit damn it, and I don't know how to do this without a few vary vital pieces of the puzzle."  
  
Vicky looked at her friend. In all the years she'd known him, she'd always known Danny to be one of the strongest people she'd known, right there rock-solid for anyone who needed him. Finally she broke the growing silence. "Danny, there's another reason that this case has me as messed up as it does. There's something you don't know about me, something that no one knows..." As Vicky's voice trailed off, her shoulders dropped. "Nobody knows about this, not even my family... Or at least what's left of them..."  
  
Danny sat back on the floor, and turned his full attention on Vicky's features. He could see that there was something hidden beneath her usually type A personality that she showed off to everyone. She may have seen many strange things, but she never appeared to let them bother her. Now, Danny was seeing for the first time that there was something beneath all of the wierdness, something hidden deep which Vicky had obviously been working hard to keep hidden. He took his free hand and placed it over her write hand as he said softly, "C'mon. Let's go for a drive."  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Danny drove for about twenty minutes in complete silence. He hoped that Vicky trusted him enough to tell him the truth of whatever it was which bothered her so much. It pained him to see a friend of his so devastated by a case, or anything else for that matter. He knew just how tough Vicky had built up her apparent facade, one which he was seeing disappear before his vary eyes. He wondered if the same would happen to him, or if it were already happening. Normally he'd have ben home with his wife, enjoying the peacefulness of a quiet house and her companionship. He loved Lee with all of hi heart, but at times found it difficult to share what went on with this job of his. He knew she was an understanding wife, one who never complained if he didnt make it home in time for supper or to read a bedtime story to the kids. Lee was Danny's rock, but at times she was just the wonderful woman he'd fallen in love with all those years ago.  
  
Finally after about another ten minutes Danny slowed his driving and turned his head to lok at Vicky. She sat unmoving, unblinking, unemotional. He knew that whatever demons she was battling with must've been pretty intense for her to be as uncharacteristically uncommunicative as it was becoming apparent. He decided to say nothing until they'd reached their destination, an out of the way spot in seclusion, one of Danny's favrites to try to find himself amidst all of his termoil and conflict. But he finally pulled up to the place he felt the most at peace aside from home, and cut the engine. Turning to lok once more at Vicky he noticed that she was the same as before.  
  
"Vicky? Hey, Vick, we're hee. C'mon, talk to me." Not wanting to push, but wanting to help his friend, Danny probed ently for a response. He placed a warm hand over one of hers which had grown ice cold by now.  
  
She looked at him blankly. Finding it difficult to form the words, she lifted her free wrist, pushing back the sleeve of her sweater as she did so. She turned her wrist over, palm facing upwards for Danny to see what it was she had uncovered. The long, neatly-healed scar was plainly visible in the moonlight that dimly shown through the glass of the vehicle's windows.  
  
At first, nothing was said, just knowing glances and unanswered questions passed between the two friends. Danny inspected Vicky's exposed wrist, looking at it clinically at first and then as just a concerned friend. He lifted the hand he'd been holding, and moved back the sleeve to inspect her other wrist, fearing that he was right but hoping he was wrong. He noticed the neat scar, identical to that which he'd seen on Vicky's other wrist only moments earlier. He took careful note of how they were exactly identical in every way possible, and that they both appeared to be old wounds. Danny lowered her wrist but still held onto it. He reached and took hold of her free one as well, clasping the two between his own warm hands.  
  
"When... How... Why..." Danny couldn't form his questions, but somehow managed to get each of the three words out with a minimal effort of force.  
  
"It was about eight years ago. I was just starting Medschool, and I was highly stressed out. I didn't ay attention to the warning signs, and soon found myself in a deep depresion. I had no idea why I was as depressed and stressed out as I was, but I refused to admit the facts to myself, let alone anyone else. Eventually I started withdrawing from what *little* of a social life I had acquired with others I attended class with." Vicky began to speak as though she were discussing a case, but in a dry and emotionless tone. "After about two weks of simply existing, going to class and then coming home to study on my own, I guess something inside me just snapped. I remember sitting down in a chair, trying to read a book... And then I remember standing in my bathroom, razor in hand. I remember slashing my wrists vary neatly and methodically, almost as though they weren't my own but those of a corpse or something else."  
  
Danny instinctively tightened his grip on both of her hands. He looked directly in to her eyes, noticing that she'd become detached from herself, devoid of any and all feelings concerning the event she now spoke of. He watched the blank expression turn into one of calm, normalcy, almost as though she were discussing nothing more than the weather or something related to mythology.  
  
"What hapened after..." Danny paused briefly and then continued. "After you cut your wrists..."  
  
"I passed out. I fully intended to die right there on my bathroom floor, but I guess something hapened when I hit the ground. My arms somehow ended up elevated above my head, decreasing the flow of my blood. When I regained consciousness, I found myself on the floor, with my razor lying nearby. I realized what I'd done, or tried to do, and I realized that I needed to get my wounds taken care of. I guess I didn't have the guts or the strength to try it again, and something made me realize that I didn't want to make a second attempt."  
  
As he listened, Danny's face began to show the emotions he'd felt inside the moment he'd seen Vickys scars. He could feel the pain that Vicky had detached herself from at the moment, and deep inside he knew that she would undoubtedly be forcing it back now more so than ever. He held her hands firmly between his own, watching her closely for any signs of emotion.  
  
"Vicky, I didn't know... I swear to God..." He looked at her before regaining his composure. "Look, if you don't want to talk about this any longer, I'll understand."  
  
"No, it's actualy a god thing that I told you. I didnt tell anyone about what happened back then. When I went to the Emergency room I told them that I had been cut when a window pain fell from my grasp, slicing both wrists at the same time. They must've believed me, because they patched me back together and let me leave a few hours later. I never went to a councelor, never got any help, never told *anyone* until tonight. I guess I learned to push it back, hide it from view of anyone and everyone around me. I never thought about it, not even when I had to deal with the occasional suicide over the past few years. But something about this case... Something just disturbs me I guess..." Vicky began to quiver, fighting back the sobs she knew were coming.  
  
Danny released her hands and wrapped both of his arms around her. He knew how difficult it was to watch her go through the pain, not having dealt with it all those years ago. It pained him greatly to see someone he would've characterized as the most average person on the face of the plannet. To him, Vicky Po was someone who possessed compasion, caring, and many other qualities which usually weren't found in most medical examiners or even cops for that matter. All he could do, Danny realized with horror, was just hold his friend... Hold her and watch her fight the torment she'd carried around for the last eight years.  
  
Vicky didn't resist Danny's offer of friendship and comfort. She embraced it willingly, knowing that this was what she should've done immediately after she'd attempted suicide. The only two people she found herself closest to were Danny and Pez. But Pez who was usually the level-headed, serious woman she spoke to about the serious stuff, was off on her vacation time, leaving only her rock, Danny. She'd never planned on telling anyone what had happened, but something made her talk about it now. But at that vary moment all that would come out of her were cries of pain, guilt, self-hatred, and shame. She should've known better, should've never trusted herself to talk about this horrid thing she'd done, never even have attempted this in the first place. But it was too late, and the damage had been done. She'd opened up to someone, someone she prayed would keep her terrible secret safely tucked away. But would he keep her little confession to him a secret? She felt she knew Danny well enough to gage his reaction, but this was something vary unsettling. He had not said a word for the past several moments, which made Vicky wonder just what he was thinking. Finally, however, he broke the increasing silence.  
  
"Vicky, I know this probably isn't much of a consolation, but if you ever want to talk I'll be here for you. I really think this is something you should consider talking to someone else about as well, perhaps someone with more experience in dealing with things of this nature." He still held her, seeing the tears which still cascaded down her cheeks as she remained silent. When it became apparent that she wasn't going to respond to what he'd said, Danny began to formulate an idea in his head. "Vicky, why don't I take you back to your place so you can pack a bag with some things. I think you should really consider crashing on my couch tonight..." 


End file.
